


Come Hell or High Water.

by The_Asexual_Queen_of_the_Universe



Series: Hell Holes and River Beds [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, I just think I'm funny because demons...in Riverside, I tried to keep abilities consistent with everybody's cultures, Jim has three kids because i refuse to believe that he only had ONE love child okay, Kid Fic, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, NOT related to the other chris pine film called Hell or High Water, Oops?, Single Dad AU, Slow Burn, Supernatural Creatures AU, attempted murder of main character, everyone is a supernatural creature except for bones, he just tolerates them, i don't sleep, i just forgot to tag this cuz i posted this story at like 1 am lol, i know i have a bunch of other unfinished stories but y'know what i'm going to post this anyways, just fyi the plot doesn't start for a while and spock doesn't come in for a while, ostensibly to motivate myself, probably more things added because...me, romulans!, sarek's in it before spock, scotty is a baker because why not???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 07:58:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Asexual_Queen_of_the_Universe/pseuds/The_Asexual_Queen_of_the_Universe
Summary: Riverside, Iowa, USA, Earth: Strangest town in the States, with a collection of ramshackle citizens. Mayor Christopher Pike is about ready to just pack up and move to Hawaii, and everyone knows that Jim Kirk runs the place anyways.Leonard McCoy, PhD: The vampire hunter that tried to be the first person to just pass through the damn town. He failed, thanks to Jim Kirk.Hell: Jim Kirk's homeland, which he barely escaped from seven years before and has been hiding from ever since.Kevin Riley: City Hall's very tired and relatively competent receptionist who keeps hacking their intercom and radio station.City Hall: Center of the chaos and frequent site of Parks and Recreation Director Jonathan Archer's anti-Scotty protests.James Tiberius Kirk: The conductor of this shit storm of a town, single father of three, and Denny's waiter.With the retirement of Riverside's head warlock and main doctor, the search begins for his replacement. The mysterious Southerner that's entered their town and the strange scientist that's supposed to assist Number One are the best candidates for the job. But with Jim Kirk's past coming back to haunt the whole town, they might want to hire an exorcist instead.





	1. The Hunt Is On (And It's Coming For You).

Leonard Horatio McCoy pulled into the Denny’s on the outskirts of Riverside at 2:00 am on Thursday. There were two other cars there, one a beat-to-shit Toyota Corolla and the other a newer Hyundai Accent with scratched paint. He parked his car away from both of them, locked it, and stormed into the diner.

Leonard sat himself down at a window booth and opened up a thick, leather bound journal. He paged through his notes from the past few days, looking to complete them.

“Oh, looks nice and pleasant.” Cooed a man from his side. Leonard looked up to see a blond, blue-eyed man smiling down at him. His name tag indicated that his name was Jim. Leonard- who had never dealt well with attractive people- grunted out a half-assed reply.

“Here’s your menu. Anything to drink?” Jim asked, still grinning.

“Coffee, black. And I’ll have some waffles.”

“Got it! That comes with two eggs, two slices of bacon, and two sausages. That okay?” Leonard nodded.

“Alright, I’ll be right back. We only have the one chef, and he’s aggressively making muffins, so we’ll see how this turns out-” Jim dashed off- “Scotty! Make some waffles for the gentleman.”

“What kind of muffin does he want with that, laddie?” Jim looked at Leonard.

“Blueberry?” Leonard replied.

“You heard the man, Scotty.”

“Aye, I did.”

Jim started buzzing around the counter, humming something to himself. He swung his hips gently as he poured Leonard’s coffee.

“Here you go.” He said, gently setting down the mug. Leonard accepted it, taking a sip. Jim took this as an invitation to sit across from him.

“So, what’s your name?” Jim asked him.

“Leonard McCoy.” He grumbled.

“I’m Jim Kirk. Well, James T. Kirk, but everyone calls me Jim.”

“Huh.” Leonard replied, not really caring.

“Where are you from, Mr. McCoy?”

“Doctor.”

“What?”

“It’s _Doctor_ McCoy. And I’m from Georgia.” Jim’s eyebrows were at his hairline.

“What’s a Georgian doctor doing all the way in Riverside?” Leonard shrugged.

“What’s a Scottish cook doing in Riverside?” He countered. Jim giggled.

“Scotty’s great, isn’t he?” Leonard shrugged again, making notes in his book. Jim craned his neck to look at it and he snapped the book shut.

“Aww, you’re no fun.” The waiter whined, pulling packs of Sweet n’ Low out of the sweetener container and playing with them.

“Are you always this cheerful at two in the goddamn morning?” Leonard asked, glaring at him over the rim of the cheap, stained old mug.

“Only for handsome doctors such as yourself.” Jim replied with a wink.

“That’s a bloody lie,” Scotty yelled as he set Leonard’s plate out at the window, “He’s always that cheerful.”

“Scotty!” Jim whined, svelte body beginning to slink back towards the kitchen. Leonard discreetly checked out his ass.

“Here’s your food, Doctor McCoy.” Jim announced, serving it with a flair.

“Thank you.” He replied out of habit. Jim sat back down again.

“So, what _are_ you doing all the way out here?” The blond asked, playing with the Sweet n’ Low packets again.

“Traveling.”

“Well, duh. But why are you traveling? Where are you going? How long are you staying?”

“I’m traveling because I have nowhere else to be, I go wherever I damn well please to, and I’m staying however long I want.” He told the waiter, hoping to annoy the man into leaving. Jim, however, was seemingly undeterred.

“Aww, poor Bones.”

“Bones?”

“Yeah, because you’ve got pictures of bones in your creepy murder journal. Want to crash at my place?” Leonard stared at him.

“Are you- are you actually insane?” Jim’s smile widened.

“Nope, Bones, I’m not. I’m sure my kids and I can take you.”

“C-children? Dammit, man, you have kids and you’re inviting a stranger with a ‘creepy murder journal’ to stay at your house?”

“Relax, laddie, he’s just messin’ with ye. He doesn’t have a house o’ his own- he lives in an apartment with his mother and his kids. Three wee biters.” Scotty called from the kitchen.

“Don’t let Ace hear you call her a biter, she’ll be very put out,” Jim replied jovially, “Don’t worry, Bones. I’ll just direct you to the best of our motels.”

“Much appreciated.” Grumbled the doctor, finishing his waffle and starting on the sausages.

* * *

Jim Kirk was the owner of the Corolla, and he waved at Leonard to follow him. It was 3:32 am when they departed the orange-tinted parking lot and pulled out onto the dark road.

The corn fields of Riverside took on a ghostly tint in the moonlight, a ravenous dark gray sea stretching endlessly onward. The road was straight and thin, and Jim drove straight on down it, headed towards the main part of town.

The main area was three blocks long by two blocks wide, with no buildings above three stories (and that was the only apartment building in town). Jim pulled into the lot of a two-story, beige motel with a fluorescent sign reading “Enterprise Motel” with a flickering ‘M.’ After Leonard parked, Jim walked up to his window.

“Go right inside that office, and you’ll see the clerk. It’ll be Sulu tonight. He’s a good guy- just tell him I sent you and he’ll get you one of the rooms he doesn’t give to horny couples about to fuck their brains out.”

“Thank you, Jim.” Leonard replied.

“I’ll see you around, Bones!” Jim winked at him before dashing back to his car and peeling out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.

“Kids these days.” Leonard grumbled, grabbing his things.

* * *

The motel office was a shiny, eye-straining white. The lights were harsh fluorescents, and for some inexplicable reason almost every inch of shelf, table, and counter space appeared to be covered in plants. There were also plants all over the floor, leaving Leonard to wander through the thin pathways that had been left.

Half-hidden behind a rose bush was a man tapping, frustrated, at his computer.

“I’d like a room.” Leonard asked. The clerk startled, yelping, and flew backwards in his chair.

“You scared the shit out of me.” Muttered the clerk, who Leonard assumed was called Sulu.

“Sorry. Jim Kirk sent me. I’m Doctor Leonard McCoy” He said by way of explaining himself. To his surprise, Sulu brightened and seemed to shake off Leonard’s sudden and no doubt bedraggled appearance.

“Oh, so you’re a Jim Kirk crazy. He finds us everywhere. What hell hole did he pull you from?”

“Denny’s.” Leonard’s voice came out strangled. Sulu laughed a little.

“I’m Hikaru Sulu. Jim Kirk found me in an iHop.”

“The hell’s an iHop?” Leonard was frowning, and Sulu stared at him in undisguised horror.

“You’ve never been to an iHop?”

“Is it anything like Waffle House?” Sulu shook his head.

“You know what, never mind. It’s too early for this. Let me find you a room.” Sulu returned to his computer, aggressively punching away at it. Finally, he completed his task and handed Leonard a key.

“Room 22, it’s on the second story. Has a view of the park. I only rent it to single people so the most anyone’ll have done in there is jack it.”

“Thank you, Sulu.” Leonard rasped. Sulu waved it off.

“No problem, doc.”

* * *

His room was surprisingly nice for such a tiny town. Not that he’d ever stayed in many nice hotels, mind you- the fanciest was an Embassy Suites out in California, and the damn room had smelled like Aqua Net- but it was clean and homey.

Sitting at the desk, he opened up his journal again. This time, there was no need to hide the pages from prying eyes.

 _Creepy murder journal, indeed._ Thought Doctor Leonard McCoy, as the vampire hunter began to write about his latest kill.

* * *

Jim Kirk, waiter and succubus extraordinaire, felt electric as he entered his apartment. The lights were still on, illuminating his daughter sitting at the kitchen table, pen in hand.

“Hey, Ace.” He called softly, tugging off his boots and throwing his leather jacket onto the coat rack.

“Hi, dad.” She said, eyes never moving from the pages of her notebook.

Acerbity was the oldest of his children, and the only girl. At seven years old, she was already studying advanced mathematics and was working on an algorithm to predict the evolutionary development of any given species or some shit like that. He was damn proud, even if half the time her calculations seemed like nonsense to him.

“It’s almost four in the morning, sweetheart. You should be in bed.” Her hand clenched almost imperceptibly around the pen.

“I _was_.” She murmured. He sat down across from her.

“Hey, sweetheart, look at me. What’s wrong?”

“Dave had a vision.” She replied, still not looking at him. His blood ran cold.

“What of, Ace?” She didn’t reply. “Acerbity Morticia Kirk, what did he see?”

“It’d be easier if he told you himself. It can wait until morning, though. It was disturbing, but it has no correlation to the near future.” She

“Grandpa Chris made us hot chocolate to help get us back to sleep. It was delicious. The other two are fast asleep. I’ll see you in the morning, dad.” She turned back towards the hallway, and disappeared into the darkness.

He sat there in the low kitchen light for who knows how long before he followed her down the hallway. Jim stopped at his sons’ bedroom door, opening it up. David and Matthew were sleeping deeply, looking calmer than any Kirk could ever look in the day time. He crept into the room, pressed kisses to both their foreheads, and rearranged David so he wouldn’t fall off his bed. Jim snuck back out again, closing the door quietly behind him.

He closed the cheap door to his room as quietly as possible. Grabbing some flannel pants and an old t-shirt out of his dresser, he changed rapidly, throwing his clothes into the cheap plastic hamper.

The nicest thing in his bedroom was by far his bookshelf, and he made his way over to it. He scanned the worn volumes, brushing his fingers over his favorites. Finally, he selected _Foundation_ and crawled into bed.

He read until he could not keep his eyes open anymore. Setting down the book and turning off the light, he lay down, dropping into sleep in an instant.

* * *

Leonard McCoy was awakened by a loud banging on the door. He staggered out of his bed and to the door, which opened to reveal a small teenager.

“Hello, Doctor McCoy,” Said the kid, whose Russian accent was heavy, “I am Pavel Chekov, the other clerk. I was told that Sulu forgot to tell you when breakfast was. It is now, in the dining room next to the office.” Leonard rubbed his eyes, sighing heavily.

“Le’mme change.” He grumbled back. The kid nodded cheerily, and Leonard shut the door. Making sure to grab a pair of pants that didn’t look horribly stained and a shirt that didn’t have holes (true rarities in his limited wardrobe), he changed and shoved on his combat boots. He caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror as he left the room and winced.

_Damn, I need to shave._

He shrugged it off, double checking his pocket for the room key. Assured that it was there, he left the room, letting the door slam. Leonard stormed down the stairs. The dining room’s door was open, and the scent of coffee wafted lazily out. He entered the dark, wood-walled room and found himself faced with Scotty angrily shoveling muffins onto a display stand. The Scotsman was muttering to himself and the blueberry muffins seemed to be the hapless victims of his ire.

“‘Take a job at the Enterprise, Scotty.’ He said. ‘I promise there won’t be anything too stressful.’ Nothing too stressful, my arse! Next thing I know, I’m up to my arse in jobs. Denny’s, the Enterprise, that damned bakery! What’s next, a bloody catering company?”

“Umm…may I have a muffin?” Leonard asked. Scotty whipped around, murder in his eyes and sharpened cake server in his hand.

“A muffin? A muffin, he asks for! No! No bloody muffins for anyone.” Scotty practically threw the muffins at Leonard before stalking out the door. Chekov emerged from underneath the buffet table, taking the muffins from Leonard’s hands.

“I am sorry about him. He is suffering from OKS.”

“What’s OKS?” Leonard asked, grabbing a couple of the less damaged muffins and a plate.

“Overexposure to Kirks Syndrome. It is what we call it when a person who, after being taken in by a Kirk, spends too much time with them and begins to grow tired from keeping up with their dynamism.” Leonard arched a brow at the word and Chekov puffed up his chest. “I am a college student, doctor. I am very articulate.”

“Clearly.” Leonard drawled, going over to a window seat. Chekov brought him some coffee before sitting across from him, which seemed to be a thing in this town.

“So, doctor, are you going to apply to work at the clinic?”

“Nah,” He waved his hand as if the notion was a fly he could dismiss.

“Oh. We are in need of a doctor. Doctor Puri is retiring soon.”

“I’m just passin’ through, kid. No settlin’ down for me, not for a damned long while.” Chekov cocked his head.

“I do not understand. No one comes to Riverside for a visit. You are either born here or you move here. We have never had someone just pass through.”

“Well, kid,” Leonard replied, setting down his slightly burnt coffee, “I guess I’m an exception.”

* * *

“Fuck!” Screamed a shrill voice. Jim’s eyes cracked open. He clambered out of bed and, feet dragging, stumbled to the kitchen to investigate the source.

Acerbity stood in the center of the kitchen, holding what had previously been the last box of Pop Tarts in her hands. It had been opened from the bottom, and all the Pop Tarts replaced with granola bars.

“Grandpa Chris did this,” She growled, breaking the cardboard in her hands, “And I am going to kill him.”

“Relax, kiddo,” He replied, ruffling her black hair, “He just wants to stop you from getting diabetes.” Acerbity, if possible, looked even more affronted.

“Demons don’t get diabetes.” She protested, and Jim laughed. He headed over to the spice cabinet, and from behind the tea selection on the top shelf pulled a box of strawberry Pop Tarts down. His daughter began to exude joy, and she snatched up the box and dashed over to her favorite chair in the living room.

“Are the boys up yet?” He asked her, starting up the decrepit coffee maker.

“Nah, Dave’s tired. We should let him sleep.” Acerbity flicked her wrist, summoning the remote to her hand.

“Alright. Keep the volume down, okay? Dave doesn’t need to hear _Bones_ at full volume when he’s just had a vision.” Acerbity nodded, focused on the TV. The coffee maker let out a strange gurgle.

“There’s a vampire hunter in town.” He mentioned casually. McCoy likely had no idea he’d figured out his secret.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. Walked into Denny’s around two am looking grumpy as hell, and he had a hunter’s journal. But he couldn’t have been a demon hunter- would’ve known what I was just from looking at me. And he had a drawing of vamp fangs in his notebook.”

“Think it’s got anything to do with Dave’s nightmares?” Acerbity asked, sharp fangs biting into a Pop Tart.

“I don’t know, Ace.” He answered wistfully, grabbing a mug he had gotten from the NASA gift shop at Cape Canaveral and filling it three quarters of the way with coffee. He got the cream out, pouring in a few dashes before putting away the bottle. He could distantly hear giggling from the boys’ room, but he decided to ignore it.

“Was he cute?” Was his daughter’s next inquiry.

“Ace!”

“Well, was he?”

“…Yes.” He admitted, sipping his coffee.

“Huh.” She replied, going back to the TV.

“Dad!” Yelled David, charging into the room. He was using a spell to drag Matthew along through the air behind him. He wrapped his arms around his father’s legs, and Jim grabbed Matthew before he fell.

“There’re my little monsters! Did you behave for your grandfather yesterday?”

“No.” Acerbity answered, blunt as ever, before David could even open his mouth. Jim cackled, imagining Christopher Pike trying to reign in his marauding hellions.

“There was only one fire! And maybe a minor demon summoning, but just a minor one.” David protested. Jim’s laughter was rapidly approaching the point of wheezing. Acerbity rolled her icy blue eyes dramatically, returning her focus to the screen.

“Glad to hear it,” Jim teased, bopping David on the nose, “What do you want for breakfast, Dave?”

“Chocolate-chip pancakes.” His big blue eyes gleamed with the idea of a sugar high before 8 am, and Jim smiled fondly down at him.

“Okay, kiddo.” Putting Matthew down on the couch with David sitting next to him, Jim headed for the kitchen to start cooking. 


	2. "Quit your bitchin' and get back to work, the damn horses need to eat." - Old Country Proverb

Christopher Pike cracked his neck, leaned back, and sighed heavily.

_That damn brat’s demon spawn will be the end of me. Heh, demon spawn. Literally._

Una entered his office, slamming down a pile of paperwork roughly a foot tall onto his desk.

“Really, number one?” He groaned, sitting up.

“Yes.” She replied in her brisk, none-of-your-nonsense-sir tone of voice.

“What’s it for?” He grumbled.

“The transfer of a new warlock to the area. He’ll be replacing Doctor Puri.” Chris perked up.

“Is the new guy a doctor?”

“Scientist, I believe.” Una informed him, replacing his old cup of coffee with a fresh one. He set his head down on the table with another sigh.

“Damn it, we need a town doctor.”

“That’s nice, Chris. Start on that paperwork soon, please.” She half-heartedly patted his arm. Una had never been good at human comforting, being a faerie of the Illyrian court. To her credit, she had always tried, but comfort seemed to be one of her few short comings.

“Ugh.” He grumbled to her back as she walked out the door.

* * *

Nyota was sitting behind the counter at the Yorktown Café when Scotty stormed in. He was carrying roughly half his weight in baked goods, and he placed the boxes on the counter with a grunt.

“Thanks, Scotty.” She said, grabbing the first box and starting to fill the display cases. Scotty nodded, getting behind the counter and helping.

“There’s a doctor in town.” He informed her.

“Oh, really? He for the clinic?”

“Not accordin’ to Chekov. Apparently he’s just passing through.”

“Damn.” She swore, shaking her head.

“Aye,” Scotty replied, “And there’s more. We’re gettin’ a new warlock in town.”

“That’s great. Let’s hope he’s halfway decent. It’d be hard to replace Puri, even though the man’s getting a little…strange in his old age.”

“Aye, lassie, I know what you mean. The other day I asked him for a charm to keep the rain off my projects, and he gave me a teapot! I tried the damn thing, of course, but it turns out that he just gave me a regular old teapot.” Nyota laughed at his tale, making sure that she didn’t jostle the lemon pound cake in the progress.

“Poor man needs a break.”

“Oh, he does! But look at me. I’m working my arse off day in and day out, and that bastard James Tiberius Perfect Hair doesn’t even bother to come to work some days.” Scotty settled into his regular rant about Jim Kirk’s various follies, and Thursday morning was as comfortable as ever.

* * *

Kevin Riley knew what was up.

As receptionist for the busiest joint in town (city hall), he sat pretty with a retirement plan and halfway decent health insurance. His boss didn’t care if he was drunk on the job (hell, Kevin had caught City Manager Boyce more than halfway through a flask before nine am a time or two), the place was heavy on gossip, and the coffee maker _was almost never broken_. The job did have its downsides. The Parks  & Rec Department, led by the one and only Director Archer, kept having anti-Scotty protests in the waiting room, which Kevin had to break up. The Design Review Board never approved anything anymore, and Kevin had to go to their meetings to play recordings of Pike and Boyce both yelling at the board members to get off their asses. Jim kept losing his driver’s license and Kevin had to call their sole DMV member, Nogura, which led to _Kevin_ getting his ass chewed for it. Also, he only had one other receptionist to talk to, and John Kyle was so busy micromanaging Puri that he never had time to share gossip. Nevertheless, it was on that boring but fateful Thursday that Kevin received the call that would shake things up in the sleepy but strange town of Riverside.

The caller ID merely read “Private Number,” and Kevin reluctantly answered the phone.

“You’ve reached Riverside City Hall, this is Kevin speaking. How may I direct your call?”

“To the mayor.” Ordered a cold, emotionless voice.

“Mayor Pike is in a meeting at the moment-” Not a total lie, he was under Una’s thumb and busy- “Would you like me to connect you to the city manager or take down a message and have him call you back?”

“A message. Tell him that S’chn T’gai Sarek is calling about a certain urgent matter that must be dealt immediately.”

“Alright, sir. I’ll get that to him a soon as possible.” Sarek hung up. Kevin stared at the phone for a few minutes, confused as all get out.

“What the hell.” He grumbled, reaching for his (Irish) coffee.

* * *

Philip Boyce felt like he was smarter than anyone who deserved to deal with this.

“I will not calm down, damn it! That son of a bitch lost my dog.” Archer yelled at him in an unprovoked outburst.

“I recognize that you’re upset, Jonathan, but I really want my coffee. Could you move, please? Oh, are those donuts?” He asked, trying to be as polite as possible.

“Fine, and those donuts are only for people who sign my petition!” The old man barked, shuffling out of his way.

“What’s the petition for?” Inquired Phil, who was 98% sure that Scotty had, in fact, made those donuts but wasn’t going to risk saying that to Archer.

“To ban that Scottish son of a bitch from being within 50 feet of any dogs.”

“Ah, what the hell,” said Phil, who really wanted a donut, “I’ll sign your petition.”

* * *

Sulu wandered into the Antiques Emporium a block away from the motel and started looking at their wide variety of cheap coffee tables. The owner, Robert April, waved at him.

“C’mon back, Sulu, I got you a cursed sword.”

“Yes!” The man cheered, vaulting himself over the counter. April shook his head, laughing at the high spirits of the younger man.

“So, how goes it?”

“We got a doctor in town. Not for the clinic, though, and Jim says he’s from Georgia.” April narrowed his eyes.

“Hunter, probably. You kids be careful.”

“Thanks, old man, but I think we’ll be okay. He’s a vampire hunter, and we don’t have any vamps around to my knowledge.”

“Though god knows we have everything else.” April muttered, unlocking a mysterious box, “Here’s your sword, kid. Don’t kill anybody- that’d be a pain in the ass to deal with.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Sulu replied, pulling the blade from her scabbard.

“Just what do we have around town these days, anyways?” April inquired, sitting down in a creaking wooden chair and making notes in his inventory book.

“Let’s see. Jim’s a succubus, Acerbity’s a demon, David’s a witch, Matthew hasn’t manifested yet, Uhura’s clairvoyant, Pavel’s a shapeshifter, Scotty’s a kitchen witch, Number One’s a faerie, John Kyle’s a werewolf, Kevin Riley’s a banshee, Pike’s a wizard, Boyce is some kind of demigod, I’m a minor god, and I lost track of everything else. Sorry.” The old man, the head of their werewolf clan, sighed heavily and shook his head.

“We’re a damn TV show waiting to happen.” April grumbled, shooing Sulu out of his shop. The god cackled, vaulting over the counter again and snagging a candy from the misshapen candy dish on his way out.

* * *

Acerbity Morticia Kirk did not like homework. In her opinion, book reports were boring and pointless- why report on what you had read when you could theorize about it?

Nevertheless, she continued writing her book report (which was thankfully on the book of her choice) despite her great displeasure with the whole scenario.

“Whatcha' doin’?” Asked David, who was kicking his legs while shoveling his face full of Cheerios.

“A nonsensical, inane task that has no purpose.” She informed him. David furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what she said.

“Ace, stop confusing him.” Her father ordered, appearing in the kitchen. He had changed into his feeding clothes, tight black leather pants and a thin white tank top. He had put on makeup, and Acerbity once again found herself envious of his skill with eyeliner.

“I refuse to retract my statement, as it is a valid one.” She replied as her father began to make dinner for them.

“I never said it wasn’t, I just told you not to confuse your brother.” She didn’t reply, and the quiet was filled with the sound of oil hissing in a pan. Matthew began crying a few minutes later, and Jim rushed over to help him. Acerbity stood, trying to help with the cooking. Sighing at her inability to see the pan- _Curse you, short legs._ She thought- she turned to David, who began levitating her high enough that she could stop the vegetables from burning.

Jim returned with Matthew in his arms a few moments later, shushing the now dozing baby.

“Thanks, Ace.” He said, taking over the stove and handing the baby to her. David floated them over to the couch. He was watching some ridiculous show about a princess.

“I want to watch _Bones_.” She informed her brother. David wrinkled his nose.

“No way! You’re always watching that.”

“And I will continue to watch it, as it provides educational information. This show that you are watching provides none.”

“Dad! Acerbity just insulted my show!”

“Ace, don’t insult your brother’s show.” Jim replied half-heartedly.

“You always side with him.” Acerbity whined.

“Because you’re always being mean to him.”

“I’m a _demon_. It’s what we _do_.” She announced. Matthew started wailing again.

“I need to clone myself.” Jim grumbled as he reached for his youngest and a fight broke out between the other two kids.


	3. Stranger Things Have Happened (But Never Here and Now)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so some of you may have noticed that the tags changed (again...).  
> This is because I fucked up.  
> So, I accidentally got Come Hell or High Water's tags confused because I was looking at the plot outline for the sequel, High Water Mark. So, in case it hasn't become blatantly obvious, Come Hell or High Water is an AU of the 2009 movie. High Water Mark will cover Into Darkness. The third major work in this series will cover Beyond. These are loose AUs though, because I needed to have different character interactions for reasons. Also because Boyce and Number One have been cut out of AOS so far and that is a damn shame.  
> I hope you enjoy this, and my tumblr is asexual-queen-of-the-universe if you want to chat there/ask me about random shit that I'm planning/yell at me for what I'm planning to do or how slow this slow burn is. Or if you just want to yell about Bones.  
> I'm always down to yell about Bones. I love Bones.

Nyota Uhura was closing up shop at the café when the door opened.

“Hello, Kevin.” She said, not turning around.

“That party trick of yours is terrifying.” He replied, fishing out his wallet. She moved to behind the counter, starting on his typical Thursday evening drink.

“Anything interesting happen at work today.”

“Just a mysterious phone call for Mayor Pike and Boyce signing one of Archer’s petitions to get a free donut.” Nyota laughed, handing Kevin his tea and one of Scotty’s apple pie bars.

“Here’s to hoping that the call was about getting us a new warlock. If the glamour ‘round this town gets dropped, who knows what’ll happen. It’s been flickering as Puri get closer to retirement. And as for Boyce and the donut, I honestly don’t know what else we expected from him.”

“It was an anti-Scotty petition.” Kevin informed her, biting into his treat.

“Does Archer have any other petitions?” She replied, starting to count the money in her register.

“Can’t think of any. I’ll head out now.” Said the banshee, strolling out. She smiled at him.

“Don’t sing in the shower, Kevin. I know you were planning on it.” Kevin laughed, sweeping her a bow. She could feel the future shift, and knew that Kevin would not sing that night. Shaking her head at his antics, she kept counting the money as the sunlight faded outside.

* * *

Scotty walked into Denny’s again, Keenser by his side. His slightly unorthodox (fine,  _very_ unorthodox) familiar was glamoured to look like a human. Jim had the night off; it was one of his feeding nights and he needed to get to Des Moines and back by morning.

The other cook, Geoffrey M’Benga, handed the apron over to him. M’Benga was a med student at Iowa University in Iowa City, but worked at Denny’s when he wasn’t in class.

“You been sleeping much, Scotty?” M’Benga asked with a smile.

“No, thanks to James Tiberius-”

“Perfect Hair, yeah, I know. Try to take a day off sometime soon, Scotty. What the town do if you died from sleep deprivation?”

“Die. Ye’d die, that’s what ye’d do.” Scotty grumbled. Keenser snorted at his dramatics. M’Benga shook his head, grabbing his book bag from under the counter.

“See ya, Scotty.”

“Take a muffin, laddie.” M’Benga grabbed a pumpkin muffin.

“These are great!” He said around his mouthful, giving Scotty a thumbs-up as he dashed backwards out the door.

“Always are.” The Scotsman replied.

* * *

Chris knocked on Jim’s door at 7:04 in the evening. Acerbity opened the door a moment later. When she saw who it was, her eyes narrowed.

“Grandpa.” She hissed, dark aura rising. Chris smirked.

“Hey, kid.”

“Don’t you ‘hey, kid’ me. You replaced my Pop Tarts with granola bars.”

“You were going to give yourself diabetes by the time you turned twelve. Let me in, short stuff.” Chris replied, attempting to get around her. Her aura darkened and her eyes glowed red.

“DEMONS DO NOT GET DIABETES.” She screamed.

“ACE.” Yelled Jim, rushing into the entryway and hauling her back before she could attack Chris. She kept glaring as she was removed from the scene.

“What did I tell you about using your powers on people?” Jim scolded.

“He’s not people, he’s a bastard!” Acerbity protested.

“Where did you learn that word?”

“You.” She grumbled.

“It’s true, Jim. You’ve got a mouth on you that’d make a sailor jealous.” Chris butted, winking at Acerbity.

“Oh, fuck you, Chris.” Jim bite out before realizing what he said. “Oh, damn it!” Acerbity and Chris cackled and high-fived, the Pop Tarts incident behind them.

“I’m never hiring you as my baby sitter again.” Jim muttered, grabbing his car keys and wallet. His jacket was hanging on the wall by the door, and he kissed his kids goodbye.

“You know that’s a lie, son.” Chris said, smiling at him.

“Good bye, Chris.” Jim iterated, closing the door and leaving.

Acerbity turned to Chris the second the door was locked.

“I want snickerdoodles.” She informed him.

“Make them yourself, I can’t cook.” Chris replied, pulling out his phone to respond to Phil’s snapchat.

“Can Phil cook?”

“Eh.” Chris pulled a face.

“How are you two not dead yet?” Acerbity said.

“I’m not that old!”

“Yeah, but you can’t cook, you lit your dryer on fire the last time you did laundry, and you once said ‘Sleep is for the weak’ while doing shots of espresso. And Grandpa Phil’s the same way.” Chris slumped on the couch.

“There’s a reason Una lives in our spare room.” He muttered.

“Then call her. I don’t care who you call, really, I just want snickerdoodles and Dad’s banned me from using the oven since I tried to test a theory of mine in there.”

“What theory?” The girl winked, running into her room. He turned to David, who was coloring on the floor.

“What theory?” He asked the boy. David shrugged.

“I wasn’t born yet, but I think it’s why Dad doesn’t keep cake mix in the house.”

“Okay, then.” Said Chris, pulling out his phone to call Una and firmly deciding to never again allow Acerbity to test any theories out while he was nearby. 

* * *

Leonard jammed his feet into his shoes in a hurry. He’d been tipped off about a vampire in the club scene in Des Moines, so he was running off to catch it. Sure, it was in the opposite direction from the nest he was pursuing, but what was one night of hunting going to hurt? He didn’t bother packing up, figuring he’d just spend a few more nights in Riverside.

His car was a half-dead ’67 Pontiac Catalina that had a paint job better looking than a sunset, orange shimmer with dark purple flames going down the sides. Gaudy, sure, but Cat had been his daddy’s pride and joy, so she stayed painted the way David McCoy had like her.

When David had died- _When you killed him_ , whispered a treacherous, hateful voice that sounded too much like Jocelyn’s for his taste- Leonard had taken that car as his own, and with it he had taken on his father’s quest. He had taken up a stake for the first time since leaving for college, and gone hunting for the vamp that had bitten his father. He’d found him in a bar in Atlanta a week later, had staked him and left the son of a bitch to burn up in the sunlight on the roof of an abandoned building on the outskirts of town.

Jocelyn had left him two years later, taken Joanna far away by claiming he was a madman chasing people that didn’t exist. He hadn’t seen his baby girl in five years. And with all the blood on his hands now, he wasn’t sure he deserved to.

 _Your work saves lives_ , he reminded himself as he pulled out of town, _just not in an obvious way_. It was 8:26 pm when he passed by the Denny’s and out of the corner of his eye he could see Scotty yelling and waving his hands at another man.

“This is a weird ass goddamn town.” He muttered under his breath, flipping his cassette player on to yet another Dwight Yoakam album. Leonard had a long drive ahead of him, and he’d be damned if he’d drive it in silence.

* * *

 

Jim Kirk was in yet another club, his third one of the night. He’d lost track of what time it was around the time he’d lost track of where in the city he was. It was alright, though. He still had his phone, so he could make it back.

He’d long ago (try four centuries ago) given up on killing people to feed. Sure, he fed off their life energy, but he never to more than what it would take to make them feel like they’d just had very, _very_ athletic sex. And if he had to feed more often because of his distaste for the murder of innocents, then so be it.

He’d had four people so far that night, quick make-out sessions in the bathrooms and alleyways. Maybe a bit extreme, but with a hunter in town he didn’t want to take any chances on being drained.

A new man approached him, tall and thin with tattoos all over. He started dancing along with Jim, and Jim felt himself being drawn in by the thrum of energy again.

“Want to go outside?” The man breathed in his ear. Jim whispered his agreement in the stranger’s ear, and he was drawn out by a hand on his wrist.

The man had him up against the wall before he could feel the coolness of the night air- _was it night anymore, or just early morning_ \-  and started sucking marks on Jim’s neck. Dazed from the pleasure of his earlier feedings, Jim did nothing but moan. And when teeth pierced his neck, Jim could do nothing but vaguely comprehend that something was dangerously wrong.

His vision began dimming, and what he could see was blurred.

Suddenly, there was a roar and a sharp pain in his neck. Jim slumped to the ground, cool pavers beneath his skin. There were fighting dark figures in front of him, and a glinting metal sliver raised high in the moon light. The sliver- _stake_ , supplied his sluggish brain- came down and landed with a _squelch_ , and then there was quiet.

The silence lasted for a moment before the still-standing figure swore and headed for Jim. Wrapping an arm around him and hoisting him up, they carried him off, away from the staked vampire in the alley behind the seedy club.

* * *

Philip Boyce pulled out his backup flask and poured a good portion of his wine out into the fire. It was time for him to talk to his father once more. With a loud hiss like a snake that’d been poked with a stick, a large, tanned man with bright hair appeared.

“Hey, kid.” Giggled the god Apollo.

“Father.” Sighed Phil, who was really fucking done with wasting perfectly good wine on his paternal annoyance.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” Whined the god, “I’m not _that_ awful. Just think of how bad I could be. I could be _my_ dad. And then you’d be dead because, y’know, Hera.”

“Father.”

“Or you could be the son of Ares! I mean, being gifted in war may sound cool and all, but it’s really just a bunch of macho manly posturing. At least I defy gender roles. And have boyfriends. Damn it, I made myself think about Hyacinthus again. Do you have any Kleenex? I need to cry about Hyacinthus.” This was spoken at approximately twice the rate of an excited Kirk on twelve energy drinks, and Phil could feel a migraine starting up.

“Father, please-”

“He was just so…so pretty. And now he’s dead and it’s all because of me.” The god flung himself to the ground, dramatically weeping.

“And Chris wonders why I don’t call you more often.” Phil muttered, awkwardly handing his father a handkerchief and patting him on the back.

“Father, I need to ask you for something.” He tried again once the sobbing had subsided a bit.

“How can I grant anything when the love of my life is dead?”  Phil rolled his eyes.

“Father, he’s been dead for centuries. Tough fucking shit. Now, can you help me win the lottery or not?” The god just kept crying, and Phil raised his eyes to the stars and thought _Now would be a fantastic time for good old Aunty Artemis to visit and kick his ass_.

* * *

Chekov and Sulu flew out of town in Sulu’s beat up Chevy with a Ziploc baggy of joints and a picnic basket full of every last one of Uhura’s unused pastries in between them. In the bed of the truck was an air mattress and a pile of blankets, and they were going to spend the night parked out in some fields watching the stars, getting high, and eating their weight in croissants.

The main road got bumpier and bumpier the farther out from town they got, and eventually Chekov resorted to bodily holding down the joints and the basket so as not to damage their chocolate-raspberry cake.

“Hikaru, I do not think this is working.” He whined as he narrowly missed hitting his head on the ceiling again.

“It’s fine, Pavel.” Replied their intrepid driver.

“Somehow, I do not trust you.”

“I’ve only driven us off the road once!”

“Twice, by my count.”

“Okay, but one was Kirk’s fault, so that doesn’t matter.”

“That is fair. He should not have been standing in the middle of the road for no good reason. And his claim that he was looking for his pants is not a good reason.”

“I still have no idea how he _lost_ his pants.” Muttered Sulu. Chekov nodded, teeth clacking together from the bumps. A few miles down the road, Sulu pulled off onto a dirt road and drove on the thin track between the corn fields. With the ride have smoothed out, Chekov finally got the chance to sit up.

The fields- which belonged to Archer, who grudgingly allowed them to stay there some nights- were deserted and shadowy in the light of the full moon. Chekov watched as they went by, identical stalks blurring together.

There was a man out there in the fields.

“Hikaru, stop.” He hissed. Sulu eased them into park.

“What is it, Pavel?”

“There is a man out there. He is standing on some kind of mound.” Sulu followed Chekov’s finger until he saw the shadowy figure.

“I’m going to talk to him.” Sulu said, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Hikaru-”

“Hey, I’m immortal. I’ll be fine. Besides, a fight in a field of corn is perfect for the god of plants.” Sulu said with a wink. Chekov swallowed, but he got out of the truck too.

They made their way carefully through the fields, Sulu parting the corn in front of them as they went. It took a while to reach the mound, but when they did the man was still there.

Well, he wasn’t a human. That much became apparent as they watched him. He was too in focus, to perfect to not be hiding something. Chekov was certain the man was a demon sent to kill them all.

It was completely apparent to Sulu that not only was this another god, this was the god he was destined to spend the rest of his life with.

“Hello.” Sulu said, stepping onto the mound. The other god whipped around, shock and horror in his gaze.

“W-who are you?” The stranger whispered.

“Hikaru Sulu, god of plants. And you?” Sulu smiled the sunshiny smile Jim had been coaching him on.

“Ben Ran, god of soil. Where am I? I just woke up here, and I don’t know what happened. All I remember was leaving my house and then- nothing.” Chekov stepped up, too.

“I am Pavel Chekov, a shapeshifter. We are approximately 20 miles outside of Riverside, Iowa.” Ben stared at him.

“Iowa.”

“Yes, Iowa.” Said the Russian, quite confused.

“I think I need to sit down.” Ben murmured, and promptly fainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Chekov is seventeen. But he's Russian and a shapeshifter. I sincerely doubt that anyone really cares anymore if Chekov gets high. Except Bones, who will yell.


End file.
